An Antipathy of Arithmancy
by SpacesInMyMind
Summary: Do you feel the cosmos vibrating? Neither does Terry Boot, who despises Arithmancy and everything about it. Written for the QLFC Season 4 Round 2. A round of applause for my wonderful beta, I'm a Nerd and Proud!
**Note: Written for the QLFC Round 2**

 **Prompt: Write about someone's hatred for Arithmancy.**

 **Position: Beater 2**

 **Optional Prompts:**

 **3\. (word) procrastinate**

 **9\. (word) watery**

 **12\. (word) throw**

 **Word Count: 979**

* * *

Terry Boot stormed into the Arithmancy classroom, sodden robes dripping like a faucet as he found his desk. A scowl darkened his face and he tossed his textbook onto his desk with enough force to knock out a mountain troll, filling the room with a resounding boom. Ernie Macmillan, seated to his left, cast him a glance that was both sympathetic and chastising.

"Nice throw. Having a bad day, huh?" Ernie gave Terry a rueful smile, and was rewarded with a glare that could melt through steel. "Yeah, that bad…" The Hufflepuff muttered, trailing off and suddenly busying himself with his carefully tied shoelace. Avoiding Terry's burning gaze, he meticulously un-knotted and retied the laces.

Sitting with a loud harrumph, Terry crossed his arms tightly and glowered at the blackboard, where enchanted sticks of chalk were zipping across the long expanse, lettering in variables and numerals in cramped handwriting. The room was silent besides to low buzz of chatter from the other students and the dripping of Terry's robes. Ernie felt it was his responsibility to break the ice, reluctantly turning to Terry and running over safe small talk topics in his mind.

"So, did you get into a duel with the giant squid?" He joked, and Terry blew out a short breath of air. Ernie supposed it was the closest he could get to a laugh in his present state.

"Not quite. This —" He gestured to his soaked garments — "Is the entirety of my Draught of Living Death."

Ernie's eyes widened to the size of saucers. "Isn't that dangerous?" Not so surreptitiously he scooted his seat an inch or so away from Terry's. With another short laugh Terry shook his head and Ernie relaxed slightly. Still, he kept his eye on the growing puddle beneath the Ravenclaw's desk, which he would have to be careful to step around in the future.

"No, it's perfectly safe. Snape said he had never seen a more watery and pathetic attempt at a potion in his life, and _then_ he saw Neville Longbottom's." Terry's face grew solemn. "He burned a hole through his cauldron, and his desk was completely covered in molten pewter. Snape was _livid_. His face turned eggplant purple and I thought he was about to hit Neville or something so…"

"Yes?" Ernie leaped to the edge of his seat, his excitement almost tangible.

"So, I levitated my 'watery' potion and sent it at Snape." Terry admitted, smiling slightly. "Of course, he caught me and I got soaked. And _now_ I have to admit to Professor Vector that I forgot my homework —"

Ernie blanched. "She'll hang your feet from the ceiling and make you recite the basics of numerology!" Professor Vector was known to punish students who didn't turn in their work on time, and each of her reprimands involved Arithmancy in some way, which made it ten times worse.

Terry's scowl returned and he slid down in his seat until his eyes were level with the desk. "Why did I ever take this class?" He groaned, and Ernie tapped his chin, puzzling out Terry's predicament.

"Perhaps because you wanted to learn about the magic and science of numerology?" The Hufflepuff suggested. "That's why I did it."

"I wouldn't have a choice in the matter anyways." Terry grumbled. "My dad thought it would be a… how did he put it? 'A marvelous and resplendent opportunity for a budding wizard such as yourself.'" He imitated vomiting and Ernie suppressed his snicker as a badly disguised cough.

"Honestly, look at this garbage! Chaldean Numerology — oh, fascinating. Look, here's where you can see the cosmic vibrations of numbers. Ernie, I feel something. Something…Strange. The cosmos is rumbling!" Terry's voice dripped with sarcasm and Ernie laughed.

"Can you believe we have to learn this?" The Ravenclaw shoved the textbook away from him, as if he couldn't bear its proximity. "It's bad enough that Professor Vector hates me, and I suppose the feeling is mutual, but I have to fill my head with this junk every day." With a sigh Terry slumped even lower in his chair. "My policy for this class is to wait and do the homework at the last minute. So far it works out fine and Vector's never the wiser. 'Study your notes three days in advance,' no way. As if I care enough, right?"

"How can you procrastinate and still get perfect marks?" Ernie threw up his hands. "I have to study my notes five days in advance and I'm barely passing! The stuff just goes in one ear and out the other. I can't make heads or tails of it."

"Wouldn't you rather do Defense Against the Dark Arts?" Terry asked, twirling his wand between his fingers. "Lupin's one of the best teachers I've ever had!" His scowl slowly dissipated as Ernie nodded vigorously.

"He's excellent! Quite suitable for a teaching position." The Hufflepuff jerked his head up and down in an approving nod.

"Ernie?" Terry cast him a sidelong glance.

"What?"

"You're talking like the Minister of Magic again."

Ducking his head, Ernie's lips twisted into an apologetic smile. "Sorry."

With a thunderous crash the door to the classroom burst open and Professor Vector stormed in, setting off a few firecrackers from her wand to draw the students' attention. Terry started and Ernie yelped, diving under his desk with his textbook over his head like a shield. Professor Vector peered down at the students over her hawkish nose and squinted at her cowering class, then turned on her heel and stalked to the front of the room, long hair billowing behind her.

"Attention, please! Everyone take out your homework from last night — Variable Interrelation. Aimes, detention!"

As Ernie dutifully pulled out his work while Terry hid behind his textbook, preparing for yet another hour of the worst class of his life.


End file.
